


Code of the Road

by RiverOfFandoms



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Companionship, F/M, Friendship/Love, Past, Reveal, The Institute (Fallout), Vault 111
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22794529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverOfFandoms/pseuds/RiverOfFandoms
Summary: “I will understand, alright? I will. Even if it doesn’t seem like it now. Even if it’s so –so effed up or confusing, even if you have to cry just to get it out – you can tell me.”You wiped your eyes with your sleeve. Your throat felt tight and your cheeks were damp. You still wanted to run but he knew about your visits to the Vault. At dawn, every morning while you were staying in Sanctuary. He knew you went somewhere, and he knew it was connected. And you couldn’t leave him now, after everything.“Where are you gonna go?” he asked, reading your mind. “You can’t leave, you’ve only got one boot on, boss.”
Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready/Female Sole Survivor, Robert Joseph MacCready/Reader, Robert Joseph MacCready/Sole Survivor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing a small fic for Fallout 4. I only started playing for the first time ever quite recently so sorry if this idea has been done to death, I just couldn't let it go. Thanks for reading, I'd love any feedback you're willing to give and if this character is something I should write more, please let me know!

“Been waitin’ long?” you asked, stepping out of your power armor. It’d been a long day’s travel and you hadn’t seen MacCready since he last helped you out in Goodneighbor. After that, you told him to meet you at your home settlement, Sanctuary, and he didn’t argue too much. Just a few grumbles and mild complaints.

“Long?” he said sarcastically, peering at you from under his cap, “almost thought you forgot about me.”

You laughed, running a hand through your damp hair, pulling the strands that stuck to your forehead and near your eyes into a slicked back mess on top of your head, “Aw, poor Mac,” you teased, gaining a look of displeasure.

“Hey, I’m the one who suffered walking the Commonwealth _alone_ and _without_ a damn suit of armor to protect me. And for what? To end up in this dump waiting for your sorry ass?”

You smiled with amusement at his banter, “That’s my home you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said with a wave of his hand in dismissal, “only trying to peeve you.”

He kicked the dirt near the group of workbenches, Sturges studio, you liked to call it, and he muttered, “Except it didn’t work.”

You held back a laugh and prepared your power armor frame for its station. You probably could have repaired it a bit more back at Goodneighbor but you didn’t have much time, with the millions of things always needing to be checked off your list. It was lucky that your power armor even coped with an attack on Oberland Station and the trek back to Sanctuary.

You liked to work on your suit, it was calming, and instead of filling super-mutants or feral ghouls with bullets, it was a much nicer way of taking your mind off things.

MacCready settled down by the shack next to the station and sat on the steps, he figured no one would need to come in and sleep during the day so he’d be out of other people’s way. Plus, he didn’t have much else to do.

He’d seen you repair your armor before, only briefly, and it filled him with a weird sense of curiosity, or enjoyment, that he didn’t quite understand. The way you focused your every bit of attention onto each steel limb, re-shaping it with all sorts of junk you’d found by scavenging the Commonwealth; it was like falling into a trance; watching a crafter at their work. He wondered if you felt the same way when watching him clean his rifle.

He remembered the first time you’d dumped a whole bunch of shit in your bag on your way back to Goodneighbor, the first time, not long after meeting in fact, and he’d criticized you for it. But you smiled and said, ‘how else am I gonna replace my arm?’ He laughed at that.

He watched you as you knelt down by the legs of the suit, hammering in some more steel. Your hair was desperately pushed away from your eyes in a hurried manner but at least the sweat held it in place. It reminded him of the first time he ever saw you.

Like a ghost or maybe even a guardian angel, if you believe in that. He could tell you weren’t from around their, Goodneighbor, hell, even the Commonwealth. It didn’t make any sense. A face like yours? Hands clean and smooth? Nah.

So where _were_ you from?

Then he’d recognized the Vault suit, but he hadn’t heard of Vault 111 before. You wore it with pride, that blue and yellow shone with rain from the outside – your hair too, littered with droplets and again slicked back out of your eyes. You came strolling right into his little office in the Third Rail, after the two gunners fled the scene. You wore leathers over your suit for extra protection and storage, maybe you’d even wore it for the fine look it gave you, MacCready would never know, but it sure worked wonders on him. He’d never seen a lady so fiercely beautiful since…

You wiped the rain from your face as best you could but MacCready couldn’t not notice the water still glistening on your lips.

You had looked at him a long while before even opening your mouth. Magnolia’s voice echoed in the background dreamily and the scent of smoke and shit-tasting booze were still in the air, so he couldn’t have been dreaming you up. He started to wonder if he’d been slipped some chems.

He could only stare back.

“200 caps and you’re mine, right?”

He almost choked. He stood up from his chair and gave you a look, as if defining his authority, but all he was doing was buying more time before he had to speak to you. Swallowing air, regaining himself enough to even comprehend what you meant, he relaxed his shoulders. “You know what services I provide, kid?”

“I’m not a kid,” you said, hand on hip.

It was an idiot thing to say, MacCready knew, but he felt he was in the presence of someone… more than what he deserved… _anyone_ deserved. It was unexplainable. The way you held yourself; the way you looked into his eyes. Even though you stuck out like a sore thumb with your clean hands and gentle face, those eyes, they had sure-as-shit seen some things.

“And yeah,” you continued, your arms crossing over your chest, your leathers squelching with moisture and with movement, your pointed eyes sharp, “I do. An extra pair of eyes, and an extra pair of hands, equipped with a gun. Correct?” She eyed the ammo strapped to his thigh and waist.

“Yep,” he nodded, smoothing out his jacket. “But usually it’s 250 caps.”

“Well,” you nodded, pretending to think it over, “I’ll do you for 200, okay?”

“Lady,” he said, shaking his head, ignoring the way his dirty mind continued to interpret the things you said wrongly, “that’s not how this works.”

“It is now,” you pressed and tossed him a handful of caps zipped up neatly in a little pouch. Which, to his credit, he still was able to catch, even if fumbling with it a little.

“Fine,” he gulped. You smirked. He knew you’d played him well but there was nothing he could do about it.

“Hey,” you said from the power armor station, now standing beside it trying to attempt at repairing the arms. The torso was a little difficult this time around but nothing you couldn’t handle. You were starting to get a real good sense on the way this suit worked. You looked over at MacCready who had seem to come out of some sort of daze.

“Yeah?” he asked, straightening his posture.

“You mind grabbing some more junk? I’ve run out of steel.”

He tilted his head, “You ran out?” he shook his head, “I don’t believe it, not after the bag of it you made me lug around through the financial district.”

You pursed your lips, “Really?”

He sighed, “Alright, alright, I’ll get you your steel,” he stood up from the shack steps and moved across Sturges studio. He crossed the street and began toward a house, “How much do you need? Looks like this house has been untouched with all the shi— _crap_ still lying around—”

“Not that one.” You watched as he turned his head to look at you. You looked away, staring at your suit, and said, “Try the house by the bridge,” you picked up one of your tools, “with the red car in front.” You couldn’t meet his eyes because then you’d have to explain yourself.

He stood there a moment without saying anything, you could still feel his eyes on you. “But… this one’s closer? And seriously, I don’t think anyone’s even been inside this house since—” he made another move toward the entrance, his foot scraped along the bottom concrete step.

“Not that one,” you stated, firmly. You tried to sound unaffected by it all, but you couldn’t. No one went into that house, that was the only unspoken rule of Sanctuary. Not even you went in there. “MacCready.”

He stopped mid-step and turned at the level of emotion in your voice. He could see it in your eyes, like he’d seen a few times before. That look. The one that reminded him that he hardly knew a thing about you.

The way you acted now sparked a memory. When you greeted Dr Amari in the Memory Den, on your way to delivering that stupid Silver Shroud costume to Kent. Dr Amari gave you a look and a sad smile, and said, ‘I don’t often say this… but I hope heaven is looking out for you.’

He remembered the pain in your eyes, the way you shook your head and walked away to Kent’s room. It was then, that anger, he’d recognized it in himself, that he suspected you’d lost someone. But he didn’t know who. He didn’t know what had happened to you.

Until you decided to hunker down for the night at the Rexford Hotel. He didn’t want to spend a whole 10 caps on a shitty hotel room for just one night, so he was content on following you up to your room, planning to just fall asleep in a chair. You said there were two separate mattresses anyway, so he could move one to the floor and sleep there. Hell, it was better than some alleyway and at least he knew you wouldn’t put a bullet in him while he slept.

But then, the door to your left swung open abruptly and out walked a ghoul dressed in a trench coat and fedora. He looked just like any other Goodneighbor ghoul but the stare between the pair of you said otherwise.

MacCready’s fingers traced the edge of his rifle.

“What…?” the ghoul said in utter shock, “No it can’t…It…it’s _you!_ From Sanctuary Hills, right?”

_Sanctuary Hills?_

MacCready stared between you two; your eyes were wide, but you were quick to hide your surprise.

“Yeah, I’m from Sanctuary,” you said, weary of the guy but MacCready couldn’t spot any sense of recognition from you.

“What? You don’t remember me? I sold you that space in the Vault! But then I wasn’t on the list to get in.” The ghoul paused, staring at you like you were a ghost. It reminded MacCready of when he first saw you, too.

You suddenly took a step back; a breathy gasp escaped your lips and you shuddered. MacCready steadied a hand toward you, as if you might fall. But then the words clicked inside his head… a 200 plus year-old-ghoul knew you?

The ghoul continued, “But you. Look at you. Two hundred years… and you’re still perfect! How? How’s that possible!?” he looked angry and usually, MacCready would step in and tell them to back the hell off but he couldn’t even _begin_ to process the information he just heard.

He looked over at you, confused… something close to uncertainty or hurt…

You swallowed. This wasn’t information you passed around regularly. So far, only Preston and Mama Murphy knew of your situation, Jun knew a little about your son… and Nick knew everything. Piper knew as well but was spared most of the details because you’ve mostly refused her request for an interview. You didn’t want it to be public knowledge for this very reason – a dramatic response.

Now, you’d have to explain it all to Mac.

“The… uh, the Vault,” you started, a little shaky. It always brought the memories back – the smell of the underground grave, then the sound of Shaun’s cries and the inevitable bullet into your husband’s chest. “It had these pods that froze us in place. I only thawed out recently.” You barely managed to say it.

MacCready heard the strain in your voice. He watched as the ghoul, known as a Vault Tec Rep – whatever the hell that meant – explained what happened and how he didn’t know about the experiment within Vault 111. He wasn’t the only one. MacCready also didn’t know a thing about you being frozen for 200 years prior.

But when you offered the Vault Tec Rep a bed and food source at Sanctuary, MacCready couldn’t help but forgive you for not telling him everything. And it made him think. He understood. The things that were hard to deal with were always the hardest to share. He knew that all too well.

He looked at you, now, at the power armor station across from where he stood, “Alright,” he said calmly, “house with the red car, no problem,” and without pushing you for answers he walked down the road to the house you described, his hands shoved in his pockets. That, then, must’ve been it. The house you lived in 200 years ago. Your home at Sanctuary Hills.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days passed and MacCready started to grow restless. You could tell by the way he’d pace up and down through Sanctuary or even tend to the garden when he was extremely bored.

But you wanted rest. Not just for yourself but for him too. You’d done a lot of running and shooting and to be honest, you were sick of Goodneighbor and super-mutants and raiders. You just wanted a bit of peace. A bed. Home.

But even though you slept across from your old house, you felt as far away from home as you possibly could.

It was late at night. You were preparing to head off to sleep soon. After a very satisfying dinner, Mac complimented your home-cooking skills even though it felt like you were desperately trying your best to work with what you had. It was nice, all the same.

You sat on the edge of your bed. It was in the second shack you helped build. After people started making this place their home, you had to build more spaces to sleep. You had decided to stop isolating yourself in the bunker you found during your first night out of the Vault and make your home above ground with the others. But Nick didn’t need sleep and the Vault Tec Rep made his way to the Castle for the time being, so it was just you and Mac, the others made their home in the first shack.

You saw his cigarette smoke drift at the entrance to the shack. He was propped up against the doorway’s frame, staring up at the stars.

He turned suddenly, looking at you, with those cautious eyes. The night sky behind him. He stopped short when he noticed you were watching him. He held up the pack of cigarettes, “Thanks for swiping these for me.”

“Your welcome.”

“So,” he started, “we heading out tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” you replied, unlacing your boots. You pulled one foot out and ditched the boot by the foot of the bed. It toppled over on its side. “Maybe not.”

He put out his smoke in the damp dirt by the entrance, with his foot, and then wandered inside. He took a seat on the edge of the bed beside you, facing you. He was biting his tongue, you could tell. He did it more often than you thought, which was surprising because he was always one to sarcastically comment on everything that occurred. Whatever internal dialogue he was having won out as he finally spoke, “There’s something you’re not telling me.” He lifted his eyes to meet yours, and with the harsh light inside the shack, it cast an odd shadow across his face.

You shook your head, “I might… I might have to leave you here. I might take Nick with me instead.”

“Nick Valentine?” he questioned almost defiantly, “that old synth? He’s not as a good a shot as me, and you know it.”

You didn’t say anything. It wasn’t like you to not say anything back. Usually, you liked the banter. It reminded you that you had a friend, that it wasn’t all just death and destruction out in the Commonwealth. But even approaching the subject of your dead husband and missing son…

“Okay,” Mac started, uncertain, “now there’s something _else_ you’re not telling me. Spill, boss.”

You sighed. A deep sigh. You wanted to curl up on your bed and forget it all. “Nick, he… I need him for this one.”

“I don’t understand. We’re in this together, right? You and me against the Commonwealth…?” he argued, but his voice was soft.

“Look, all this started with Nick. The shit I have to deal with, the things I have to do…”

“Like when you run off for days at a time without telling me why?”

You looked away. Your eyes concentrated on your hands in your lap. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So, because he already knows about all this, he’s your first choice?” Mac tilted his head, as if waiting for a response but there was none you could give him. “Why not just tell me too, then?”

“I can’t,” you said, plain and simple, and you were surprised you even argued with him at all. Usually, you changed the subject. Ignored it. Pretended the conversation was never heading that dreadful way… You didn’t know why you couldn’t tell him. When you told Preston and Mama Murphy, it was easy, you’d just thawed out only a day or two before and it was still so fresh; you were still processing it all so the words were easy. You were desperate. And when you reached Diamond City, Nick seemed like your only hope to getting answers. It was hard, still, but now it had been weeks, months since, and with every passing day it just grew harder and harder to talk about.

“You can,” he urged, reaching a hand across to rest on your knee. He found your eyes. “You can,” he repeated.

You shook your head and swatted his hand away. You stood up, suddenly anxious and panicky. It felt like the air had disappeared even though this shack had so many holes in the walls and the roof, it wouldn’t ever suffocate you. You thought about running. Just running. From this shithole, from the Vault, from the responsibility of looking for Shaun.

“Y/N—”

“I’m not having this conversation, Robert,” you warned.

He blinked at your use of his first name, but he didn’t let it phase him. “You think I don’t see what you’re going through?” he questioned, pressing on. He told himself so many times to leave it alone, but he couldn’t force himself to do it again, not anymore. “I may not know why you disappear for days on end with a synth detective, or why random people say you’ve been through so much, or why that Diamond City journalist keeps pestering you for a _damn_ interview… or why every time at dawn, you leave the shack and walk up that hill just beyond the creek bridge, but you have to know, whatever it is, I _will_ understand, alright? I will. Even if it doesn’t seem like it now. Even if it’s so –so _effed_ up or confusing, even if you have to cry just to get it out – you can _tell_ me.” He paused to take a breath. Everything just came pouring out, he couldn’t control himself, not this time. All the emotions bottled up exploded with his words. He’d watched you suffer alone in those silent moments, those nervous glances away from him whenever the topic of conversation headed to your past, those nightmares, all too long.

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve. Your throat felt tight and your cheeks were damp. You still wanted to run but he knew about your visits to the Vault. At dawn, every morning while you were staying in Sanctuary. He knew you went somewhere, and he knew it was connected. And you couldn’t leave him now, after everything.

“Where are you gonna go?” he asked, reading your mind. “You can’t leave, you’ve only got one boot on, boss.”

You glanced down at your feet. He was right. You’d forgotten in your moment of panic that you’d tossed the other boot off already. You laughed. You wiped your eyes again and smiled, “I’m sorry.”

His eyes were soft and full, his voice gentle, “What have you got to be sorry for?”

“You’ve been straight with me,” you said, “and I haven’t with you.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, a comforting hand found your shoulder. “I want you to be ready to share but I don’t want you to feel like you could never tell me, ever.”

You nodded. “It’s a lot.”

“I figured as much. You’ve got a synth detective, a journalist, a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin, Minutemen, several settlements, the Railroad… all at the ready. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out that whatever it is your planning, it’s big.”

“I don’t want to drag you into it.” It was your final ditch-effort at giving him an escape. Another chance before everything would change, everything he knew about the Commonwealth.

“I want you to.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Fine,” you pulled him into a hug. It was a long hug. It was a needed hug. You realized you’d never hugged the guy before which seemed crazy considering all the near-death experiences you shared on the road. Hell, even in the big settlements. Nowhere was safe. Unless, you were with each other.

MacCready was surprised at your sudden act of intimacy. But he liked the feel of you in his arms. It felt nice. He wished he’d hugged you long ago.

“Tomorrow, at dawn. I’ll tell you… I’ll show you, everything.”

He nodded.

***

Mac was up before you were. Maybe it was the nerves, maybe it was the finality of it all. He’d finally get the missing pieces to your story. He’d finally understand what it was all for.

You didn’t linger too much in the shack. As soon as you woke up, you were ready. Last night, you thought you’d never fall asleep. But with the morning sun rising on your backs as you headed to the creek bridge, you’d never felt surer of what you were about to do. A sense of peace overcame you. Maybe… maybe it was Nate, maybe he was telling you that this was okay.

You led MacCready up the hill, through the Vault Tec fence where skeletons littered the entrance. You were used to it, and in some ways, so was MacCready, skeletons decorated the Commonwealth like houseplants. But he knew in that moment that wherever you were taking him wasn’t going to be a happy place.

You entered a small, blue structure. You pressed the big red button without hesitation and an eerie alarm set off.

MacCready felt nervous. Especially when he saw the big numbers, 111.

You led him to the elevator platform and slowly, it dropped down through the ground. When it stopped, you were well underground. The doors slid open and you were inside. Inside Vault 111.

The place was like a dungeon. It was quiet… too quiet… and he felt a nervous bubble of laughter in his stomach, but his mind told him _hell no, now is not the time to laugh_. He followed you through the entrance, he trusted that there were no lingering dangers but everything about the place screamed death and isolation. He reminded himself that he was here with you, and he was here to support you.

You walked through the tunnel and entered the room with the cryogenic pods. You stopped. This would be the first time you took anyone else down here with you and your heart skipped a beat. But as soon as it happened, it was over. And the nerves fled your body.

MacCready watched you in silence as you stepped inside. It was slow. And he was okay with that. Not just because he knew it would take you a lot of effort but because he was still trying to process it all.

“This is where I woke up,” you said. You showed him to your pod, C5.

MacCready stared at it. The only one that was empty. He felt his gut twist as he glanced at the others, all still filled with bodies except for only just one other.

You sensed his confusion. “That pod over there, C8, was empty to begin with.”

“You… you were the only one to make it out? Out of the whole Vault?”

You swallowed, feeling the tension deep in your stomach. “Yeah.” _And Shaun_ , you thought.

“How’d they…?”

You shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I do know they died from asphyxiation. Most of them.”

MacCready looked at you, you could feel his eyes burn into the side of your face. He wanted to ask but he didn’t. Then he said, slowly, “Sorry… if the, you know, the answer is obvious...” He wanted to sound empathetic, but he needed this question answered. “But why keep coming down here if it only upsets you?”

You swallowed. Your mouth was dry. It was now or never. “I… come down here… to visit someone.” You glanced over at pod C6 and he noticed the hubflower sitting on the ground in front of it.

_Oh_ – he thought.

He watched you, carefully.

You activated the control panel, “Stand back,” you warned, and the pair of you stood a couple feet opposite the pod as it lifted open.

MacCready stared. He noticed that the body looked different to the others. The others were frozen with eyes wide open and panicked. But this one was… calm. As if he were asleep. But MacCready couldn’t not notice the deep, dark color that stained his Vault suit.

“Who… who is he?” he asked, though, he knew. He could see that look in your eyes.

“My husband, Nate,” it felt weird to share his name. You never did. It was always ‘my husband’. Spare the details. But you felt you could share it with him. You breathed slowly. “We got put in these as some kind of Vault Tec experiment.”

“That ghoul at the Rexford Hotel…” he said.

“Yep, that’s the one. He sold me and my family a place in the Vault the day Washington… The day the world went to shit.”

_My family_ , MacCready’s eyes shifted at those words.

“But…” you started, the air becoming thicker. “Something went wrong. Somebody got into the Vault. By then, I guess everyone else outside the pods starved to death so there was no one else but us,” you paused, “I watched them as they opened my husband’s pod and took our baby from his arms.”

Something clicked again inside MacCready’s head. You were, and are, a mother. That passion and anger, it made sense now.

You could feel the emotion beginning to well up. You’d never told anyone in this much detail. Nick only knew because he saw the memory for himself at the Memory Den. “Nate tried to fight for Shaun, but he was still just coming out of the cryogenics, he was confused and _afraid_. They shot Nate and I watched him die. I couldn’t do anything to save him. I watched him _die_ and they took my baby away… and then I was frozen again.”

MacCready wanted to extend his hand out towards you. He wanted to touch you and make you feel safe again. Reliving the dark times were always so hard.

You were crying by now. You tried hard to push it away, but it was impossible. It was still fresh as the day before. “I don’t know why I lived. The rest of the pods must have malfunctioned. I… I was the only one left. The sole survivor of Vault 111. And when I woke up and found everyone else dead, saw what the world had become while I slept, I _knew_ I had to fight.” You paused, wiping your face. “And I will. I’ll fight _every_ Institute _bastard_ that gets in my way and I’ll send them straight to hell for what they did.”

MacCready saw the fire in your eyes and he believed you. He believed you would. You had already, so far. You fought with such vigor and anger and now he finally understood what it was that fueled it all this time. He knew revenge was a rocky road to travel but he also knew that whatever you’d bring to the Institute deserved it, and then some.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Y/N,” he said, gentle. He didn’t always use your name, mostly he just called you ‘boss’. And that wasn’t bad. But it meant that when he used your name, he really meant what he was saying, so you appreciated it. He rested a hand on your shoulder, “You’ll find him, you know. Your son. I won’t stop helping you until you do. And even after… even after, I’ll still stick around, if you want.”

You grasped his hand with yours, “Thanks.”

“Seems like you’ve been building up a pretty big army to take the Institute down, huh?”

You nodded, “I guess I have. I didn’t intend that at first. I just started making connections with people ‘cos I needed answers and… caps, you know, to survive,” you laughed drily.

You closed the pod.

He stared at the closed pod a moment. “What… kind of man was Nate?” he asked, full curiosity.

You smiled. You fingered the piece of rope that hung around your neck with the two wedding rings and he saw the flash of gold; it was tucked inside shirt. “He was kind. Protective. And funny. He always hogged the mirror in the bathroom and made a mess of it, but he always found a way to make it up to me for it. He loved Shaun more than anything in the world.”

“Sounds like a great guy.”

You nodded, catching MacCready’s eyes, “He was.”

“And Shaun?”

You sighed, “Not a baby anymore, according to Kellogg’s memory.”

He frowned, “Kellogg? The merc?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. He shot Nate and took Shaun.”

He stared at you with a newfound curiosity and awe, “He was one lethal son of a…” he trailed off and then added, “I heard he died.”

“He did,” you said, looking away at your feet, “I killed him. A couple night’s before I met you, actually.”

He nodded. He figured as much. But he never would have guessed that Kellogg was the middleman for the Institute. That merc would _really_ work for anyone.

You began to walk away from the closed pod. You paused. “Mostly, I just come down here to talk to him, you know? Tell him how close I am to finding Shaun. Or how my day went or who I met, what I did. Stuff like that. It sounds… kind of crazy, maybe, but before, we would bury our dead and mark it with a gravestone. Like the ones we see in town, where ferals climb out of. And we’d visit those graves and talk to them and lay down flowers, too.”

“Yeah, it makes sense. I’d want to talk to… to… as well.” He averted his eyes at the almost mention of Lucy’s name.

You smiled sadly at him and understood. “Months ago, he was the only person I could really talk to. No one else would have understood what it felt like to have been thrown 200 years into the future. All of these things that I didn’t understand like caps, settlements, super-mutants, ghouls – all of it. But… now, I don’t feel as alone anymore and I’m thankful for that.”

“Me too,” he nodded and continued to follow you out of the Vault. Soon you reached the platform and were back up in the Commonwealth in no time, the sun on your faces.

He stopped you before you could walk back to the settlement, “So, where are you and Nick off to then?”

You didn’t keep walking down the dirt track and instead kept your position, “We got a lead about a way… a way into the Institute.”

His eyebrows raised, eyes widened, “You’re _going_ there? How…?”

“The synths,” you answered and felt a nervous bubble in your stomach. You weren’t exactly prepared for what you and Nick had planned to do. You weren’t sure if Virgil even told you the truth. And you sure as hell weren’t prepared to attack a Courser but… it was the only thing you had going for you, for Shaun. “You know, there are the ones that attack on sight like guard dogs—”

“Right,” he nodded.

“Then there’s the ones that replace people without anyone’s knowledge, and then there’s Nick who’s a prototype, a synth that falls somewhere in between those two types. But there’s another kind.”

“Another?”

“Coursers. They’re like… the Institute agents or assassins.”

MacCready frowned, staring at you with that same confused look on his face. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, adjusting his rifle strap. “And just how are you going to get inside? Because I’m pretty sure an _Institute agent_ isn’t gonna just _open_ the door for you. Assuming there’s even a damn door since no one in the Commonwealth has found the place.”

“That’s just it. There isn’t a door,” you began, confirming his suspicion, “the Coursers are the only ones that have a way in and out of the Institute by their own accord. Teleportation.”

“So…” he dawned, realizing what you were about to get yourself into.

“I’m going to have to kill one,” you confirmed.

“I’m going with you,” there was no hesitation before his response which meant his mind was made up.

“MacCready…”

“You and me against the Commonwealth, remember? That includes the Institute.”

“But—”

“I’m not letting you go alone, even if you are with Nick, I’m not letting you go without me. The Institute… they’re...”

“It’s not safe,” you interjected, and began walking down to the bridge.

“Exactly,” he laughed, shaking his head at you. “Besides, since when did we worry about each other’s safety, huh?”

You turned back around to face him, “This isn’t a game, MacCready!” You knew you sounded upset and you knew he wouldn’t quite understand why but you couldn’t help yourself. “It’s not like sniping a bunch of raiders or exploding super-mutants. This is much worse.”

“Which is why I’m going with you.”

“But what if you died!?” you yelled, breathing harshly. You couldn’t lose anyone else. “Nick’s a synth, he doesn’t bleed like us, he doesn’t die as easily. But you’re flesh and blood and I can’t let you come into all of this just to _die_ — because then you’ll just be another person, I care for, that the Institute has murdered!”

He shook his head and it looked as if he was laughing, if he was, it was probably not the happy kind. “And what… you think _I_ wouldn’t care if you just upped and left to go right into all this crap and not come back, huh?” He kicked the dirt with pent-up frustration, his hands crossed over his chest. A moment passed with his eyes on his feet, the dirt settling around him again. He stepped in front of you so you couldn’t just take off, not until you heard what he had to say. He searched your eyes, “If you left me behind to go kill that Courser, and you died, I would _never_ forgive myself for not being there to at least try my hardest to keep you alive.” He paused, “That’s what _we_ do, right? Keep each other alive?”

You scoffed, “I thought we weren’t supposed to worry about each other’s safety?” You watched as Mac shook his head at your snide remark. “What about Duncan?”

“I don’t plan on dying in there.”

“But what if—”

“I won’t.”

“Alright,” you said, “alright…” There was no changing his mind. He was as stubborn as they got. You swallowed the nerves, “We’ll head off soon. I want there to be light still, at least a little, ‘cos I don’t know the location well.” You started towards the settlement, “I lead, you follow and do what I say, okay?”

“As always, boss,” he smirked.

“And Mac?” you asked, turning to look at him as you walked.

“Yeah?”

“I appreciate this,” you stopped walking, facing him, “a lot, more than you could ever know. And… and I appreciate you, a hell of a lot more than you think—”

“I know,” he said, softly. He reached out a hand to hold your face, his thumb on your cheek, he lightly pressed a kiss to your forehead, an unspoken act of intimacy you shared in times like this. You held his hand. He whispered, “Same to you, partner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the change between memories/perspectives wasn't too confusing and read smoothly. I just couldn't see another way of writing it and I didn't want to write chronological because it always seems too choppy.


End file.
